


Well, It Was a Game Room!

by notenoughtogivebread



Series: Klaine Advent 2015 [8]
Category: Glee
Genre: In-Laws, M/M, Season/Series 06, Sexual Content, a bit of craic, honeymooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6539464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughtogivebread/pseuds/notenoughtogivebread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Klaine Advent 2015 Prompt: Indecent. Season 6 Klaine; Mr. Anderson discovers just how married his son is. This is mostly silly, with a tiny bit of angst. Those Anderson men!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well, It Was a Game Room!

So maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing Blaine had ever done in the long, complicated history of Tom Anderson coming to terms with his younger son’s sexuality. In his defense, he didn’t think his dad would be around. 

But leave it to the old drama queen to have left Mom over the wedding weekend just so he could get out of going. Okay, well he was gone for longer, but still, from what his mom said, the whole thing amounted to dad going off in a huff as some sort of protest over crossing a state line for gay marriage in general (or maybe it was about Blaine’s date being Kurt; Dad was _not_ thrilled they got back together). And then to show up unexpectedly at the house on the same afternoon that Blaine and Kurt unexpectedly came back from their unexpected honeymoon… Blaine would laugh, except Kurt was shut up in the downstairs powder room and Dad was pacing the hallway upstairs, and Mom would be home from her Mary Kay demonstration any minute now, and WHERE ARE HIS CLOTHES? 

Dad was probably upstairs calling an ophthalmologist to have his retinas burned off. And really, Blaine wasn’t sure that he’d blame him. It’s not every day that you walk into your house to see your progeny being well and truly fucked across the poker table in the game room. 

In their defense, Kurt and Blaine hadn’t meant their afternoon to turn into an occasion for defiling furniture not their own. Really. Blaine had just been so upset about the fire at Dalton, and the scene that met them there, and Kurt, dismayed, a little helpless as always in the face of Blaine’s grief, was just trying to comfort him. He drove them to the big Anderson house because it was closer to Dalton, and after all, Mama had told them she’d be out of the house until 3, and she had been feeling lonely about Dad abandoning her—last they checked anyway. So really, it was Dad’s fault in a way. 

They had been determined to have _fun_ on their honeymoon, even if it was not exactly beach weather. Kurt had made Blaine swear a solemn vow that they not talk about all the many, many things they HAD to talk about until they got back home. So on the flight to Boston, they had made lists—Blaine had kept them both up the night before adding sticky notes all over the Lonely Planet guidebook—of THINGS TO DO. Kurt’s list was startlingly different from Blaine’s. Where Blaine’s said, “Bundle up and walk the Breakwater,” Kurt’s said, “Tie Blaine to the four-poster with some of the 20 bowties he most definitely packed.” Where Blaine suggested Drag BINGO at the Crown and Anchor, Kurt suggested sex in the hot tub—or in the snow followed by the hot tub—or something with a hot tub (“We’ll see when we get there, Blaine.”). And when Blaine suggested they find a bar with a karaoke night to sing a duet together to really cement their union, Kurt countered with massage oils, and suggested that they take their turns with s-l-o-w sensual massages (“No rushing to the end, Blaine. We have time—and we need to take time.”). 

But then the honeymoon was cut short, and they ran out of time, and then they ended up here, having drinks at the bar in the game room. They got to talking about ideas further down Kurt’s list (“Exactly how long was I supposed to keep the fox tail in, Kurt?” “Hmm. Let’s go with as long as it took.” “For what? We really only had an extended weekend.” “That would be a start.” “Kurt!”), and Kurt started wondering what the felt top of the games table would feel like: “You know, like it’s all hard wood underneath, but then soft felt on top. Do you think you’d get, well, rug burn?” 

“I—never thought about it. This room was always sort of forbidden territory, you know.” 

“That just makes it better. I think we’re gonna find out.” 

And really, the one thing Blaine understood about all of this is that Kurt was making up for lost time, making sure Blaine felt how loved, how desired, he was. So he was all for going with it—until the point where his dad screamed like a little girl. 

The garage door opener went off, and Blaine scurried down the hall to the powder room, hissing at Kurt to let him in. “Did you bring our clothes? Otherwise, we’re going to have to set up camp in here, and really, Blaine, there’s not much to eat in here—and I don’t think hand towels would make good loincloths.” 

Which is why, when his mom came into the kitchen from the garage, he met her dressed in her Kiss the Cook apron, grinning maniacally, trying desperately to not draw attention to his exposed ass cheeks. He sidled along the wall, checking behind the couch, under the pool table, aah, _behind the bar_ —for their things. His mom was just amused. “Blaine, dearie, it’s very nice to have you home, but I’m not sure I was planning on you and Kurt being quite so relaxed in your dress.” 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t planning on being surprised by the Spanish Inquisition when I thought my HUSBAND and I were in an empty house,” he huffed as he returned to the kitchen, clutching the bundle of clothes. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Your Dad’s moved back. It may be temporary. I don’t know.” And then, as the penny dropped, “Oh, my goodness! Poor Tom! Quick, Blaine, go get dressed. I’ll deal with him.” 

She ran up the steps, and he went to find his husband. They crept out of the powder room and struggled into their shoes in the hall, listening to the conversation upstairs. “In my own home! The most _indecent_ behavior!” 

“I know, Tom. But see it from their point of view. They’re on their honeymoon. I seem to recall a few moonlit strolls on the beach that ended up with sand in all the wrong places. And there _was_ that porch swing.” 

Kurt was eavesdropping openly now, his mouth agape, practically sitting on the bottom step. 

Mr. Anderson’s voice had gone soft, too, so it was a good thing he was close enough to hear. “Pammy. We don’t talk about the porch swing.” 

“Yes, we do. We just spent years avoiding your Aunt Mildred is all. But, after all, we were young and in love. Like the boys are young and in love. Sometimes love makes you do stupid things.” (“Your Mom’s good,” Kurt whispered, but Blaine was intent on his dad’s voice.) 

“Yeah. Stupid things like getting married in an ambush. Christ, Pammy. They’ve spent more time in the past 3 years broken up than not. How is this—I can’t watch that again, baby.” 

Kurt reached out without even looking and squeezed Blaine’s hand. At least they were in this together. 

“Well, sometimes being young also means taking crazy chances. Like we did. And it’s not like our opinion matters much at this point, after all.” 

“I—well, one thing’s for sure. I don’t want to be Aunt Mildred." They could hear his forceful sigh. "But I think,” and he raised his voice, “that if I wanted to take pity on my old man, I’d go to dinner at the Hummels now and then NEVER SPEAK OF THIS AGAIN.” 

“Aye, aye, sir,” Blaine called up the stairs, grabbing Kurt’s hand and pulling him out the front door. 

No one was even a bit surprised that Tom’s Christmas present to Pammy was a home theatre in the space that previously housed the game room. And they never spoke of it again, although Kurt did get the details of the porch swing adventure out of his father-in-law years later. But that’s another story.

**Author's Note:**

> I know that lots of folks feel like canon shows Pammy and her husband as divorced in the wake of the events of season 6. But my canon Mr. Anderson (sometimes named Bill, sometimes Tom) is an awful lot like his younger son: prone to run and wallow a bit when his feelings are bruised, a little bit in awe of his partner's adventurousness, but a decent man at heart. He's just slow to process--everything. And he takes some time to warm to Kurt.  
> He just didn't think God would reward his love for Pammy's more outrageous moments with TWO sons who embodied that in their own ways. He can't believe they BOTH chose performing rather than something sensible like medicine or law.  
> He's formal and awkward, but there's a reason it matters to Blaine that he pleases him. And he is loved by his grandkids.


End file.
